Trust
by Naril
Summary: Ariadne trusts both Eames and Arthur with her life all the time. She knows nothing about them even though her and a certain Forger have been sharing the same bed for some time now.
1. Chapter 1

_I've been overwhelmed by all the reviews! They made me feel incredible and inspired me so much, this is going to be a two-shot... I write it and only afterwards realized the word-count was pretty high so I split it in two.__This half is quite angsty (not like that's new for me) and the next one turned out quite fluffy for some reason XP_

_It basically fits in between **Strength** and **Masks**._

_Disclaimer: Nolan is a god; i am tiny and insignificant._

_Enjoy! _

* * *

><p>So it had to be expected. It was not like they had normal office jobs or were doing anything remotely legal. And really, if she was honest, the amount of times there were gunfights involved in the dreams, she should have known that they were no strange thing in reality either.<p>

For a fair amount of time though, she had been sheltered from these things. She mainly worked with Arthur and Eames who both recommended her to teams. Again she needed to be honest and admit that they probably kept her out of the dirtier jobs.

The amount of times that Eames went off by himself and told her he would be back in a few weeks should have been an indicator of that too. She was not stupid, she had figured as much.

She had not figured though, that one day said Forger's military training would be put to the test and they would barely make it out alive.

Despite Arthur's conviction of the opposite, Eames was perfectly capable of coming up with back-up plans.

So he had made sure she escaped when the shit had hit the fan; at all costs. He had pressed a small handgun into her hands and told her to run and call Arthur from a payphone as soon as it was safe.

She had tried to argue and he had simply pointed out that he could clearly not be at the top of his game if he had to worry about her. Grudgingly she had given in, because how could she compete with years in the SAS?

She regretted it now. It had thankfully taken Arthur less than a few hours to make it to Prague and meet her. It took them another hour after that to find him, beaten and bleeding from an alarming amount of injuries in an alley not far from where she had left him.

She had left the thinking to the Point Man then, because quite frankly she could not think straight and when Eames, only half-conscious had given a weak grin that showed his bloodied teeth, she had grabbed him by the ruined jacket and told him that if he dared to die on her she would never ever forgive him.

The grin had only grown bigger but he had promised to do his best, that he was glad she was here and he thought she should know just in case. It was only when his head was resting in her lap that he admitted to the fact that breathing bloody hurt right then.

Ariadne had so far been holding up fine, but the raspy comment had finished her off and she had no longer been able to fight the tears. She had feebly joked that he should shut up and better not think about giving up just because of a measly bullet wound in his chest.

Later they told her that one of his lungs had collapsed.

Arthur had stood by a little passively. He had been uncomfortable with their closeness ever since it had become apparent. He was still there, having leant her a shoulder to cry on when things had finally sunk in for her, alone in a busy hospital corridor.

She knew it was not exactly fair, since there had once been chemistry between them too. Nonetheless, she was comforted by the familiar presence and ended up asking him how he had met the Forger to pass the time.

He had looked at her quizzically, but then admitted that there had not been much to tell except that a contact had recommended him as one of the best and he had not questioned since in their business reputation was everything. It also happened to be the reason for the playful animosity between them, since both were at the top of their field and had little others to compete with.

With a frown, she had asked how much he knew about Eames and his time in the military, to which the Point Man gave her another one of his half-frowns and informed her that pretty much everyone in the dream-business had once been involved with the military excepting maybe former architects like Cobb.

The architect's mind snapped back to when she had once after she had only known the two of them for perhaps half a year, yanked in jest at a chain half-hidden under the Forger's shirt-collar and revealed a set of worn dog-tags. Before she had gotten a good look at them, Eames had very calmly extracted them from her grasp and put them back where they belonged. She had felt compelled to apologize but he had waved her off and complimented her on her attention to detail with a carefully crafted grin and a wink.

Arthur mentioned that he knew through research that the Brit had managed to get himself dishonourably discharged and then disappeared from the map for a while only to reappear with an extraction team and a new profession. He had tracked the files down through a variety of false names and dead-ends and still part of them were encrypted by what he believed to be the MI6 and apparently it had not surprised him.

Ariadne nodded wide-eyed, realising all at once how little she knew about these men who had saved her life more often than she could count and she had let into her life without question. She thought back to the many late-night talks she had had with Eames, confiding in him about her family and her past while he exposed nothing.

She asked Arthur why neither of them ever mentioned their past and again he gave her this look as if she was a particularly slow student. Safer to not divulge that kind of information if it could be used against you at some point, was all he had to say to that.

The architect was left with the realisation that for all the things they had been through, she had still been so very naïve. She would have to do something about it.

* * *

><p>She was sitting on a rather uncomfortable plastic chair and he was returning her gaze through bleary eyes. As soon as he had woken up, she had decided that hospital did not suit him. It was as if it was another person lying in that bed, face pale and drawn, especially because he was not his usual animated self.<p>

Eames must have known something was on her mind, because so far he had not said a word other than a hoarse greeting, waiting for her move.

She had not touched him, for some reason feeling a new distance between them. Maybe it was the fact that she did not reach out for him and he was waiting for her to do just that that created the tension in the room.

"I…I want to ask you something." She finally managed to speak, though it sounded a little choked and she could not look at him, because this was really not the time but it would not leave her alone.

Feeling nervous, she hesitantly lifted her gaze to his again; taking in the dark circles under tired eyes that lacked the usual alertness she relied on most of the time. She should not ask about his now.

"Do you trust me?" She asked, refraining from wringing her hands in her lap for lack of something to do.

Eames blinked, then frowned at her as if he did not understand what she was saying. "What d'you mean?" He rasped and then he reached out, IV still stuck to the back of his hand, but he still reached it out for her anyway.

Biting her lip she took his hand, careful to avoid the needle, and thought of the fact that this could wait because it had to, because she should not do this now. She decided to drop it for now.

So instead, she told him that Arthur had left a few hours ago and that he had better not scare them like that again. It had earned her a little grin and it had been so familiar that she felt assured once again that it could wait.

* * *

><p><em>Did you like? Please review! There will be more talking and Eames in the next one, promise!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_So I have time to put up the second part today. Real life is nuts I say, nuts. You know when you're trying to finish your studies with the last bit of energy and then your parents are on your back that you should get a job like...yesterday? Seriously... Anyhow:_

_Disclaimer: Do I have to? *bows to huge statue of Nolan in the garden* happy now?_

_Enjoy! _

* * *

><p>In the end it had been him who brought it back up. It was after another of her attempts to draw something out of him had failed. They were sitting in a rental for the trip from the airport to her apartment that she still kept in Paris.<p>

After the weeks in Prague, she had suggested they go there to lay low for a while and he had protested very little, knowing that he still needed time until he could work again.

He had let her drive which she took as another indication as to how true that last point was. "What are you brooding about all the time?" He asked into the developing silence after she had tried to subtly get him to tell her about any of his childhood memories and he had just changed the subject.

"Nothing." She replied, automatically, her eyes on the road because she hated the traffic in Paris, but also relished the opportunity to make use of her driving license at least once in a while.

"Seriously darling, you've been tense for the last couple of weeks. Is there something you should tell me?" He asked and after a pause added: "You haven't decided that you've had enough of me, have you?" She knew it was purposefully made to sound playful and also heard the very real tension underneath the humour.

It struck her a little, that insecurity he had just revealed and as she pulled up in a parking space near her apartment, she turned to look at him.

His eyes were guarded as he watched her, one hand having slipped into his pocket where he no doubt kept his totem. It was a new experience for her because she had never seen him like this, all ashen face and raw emotion that he did not really hide from her. Was that the meds he was still on, or a sign of trust? She was not sure.

With a sigh, she reached over and brushed a hand through his loose hair, something else that she was not quite used to. It was shorter than before as well. "Why would I do something stupid like that?" She asked, using his own tactics of diverting from the real question against him.

Eames gave a watered down version of his usual smirk. "I don't know. Maybe Arthur convinced you finally that I'm no good for you?" He caught her hand in his bigger one and pressed a kiss to her skin.

She stared at him. "Are you sure all those painkillers aren't screwing with your head?" She quipped, finding herself wanting to relieve the tension for the moment, especially because this new, vulnerable side of him scared her a little. It was so different to the man she was used to.

When the two of them got out of the car, she contemplated again how little she really knew him still.

* * *

><p>Once they had made it up the stairs, which had taken decidedly longer than usual and had ended with her earning herself a fierce glare when she offered to stop halfway up because the way he was fighting for breath could not be good for a healing lung.<p>

The architect after that simply took his sweaty hand in hers and ignored any protest, leading him the last few steps to her door. When she unlocked it and they both stepped inside, Eames grumbled something under his breath about feeling like a bloody old man and giving her small hand a squeeze, let go and moved towards the bedroom.

She could not help but smile and after a moment of deciding to dump the luggage in a corner rather than start unpacking, she followed him through the door, to find him dozing on top of the bedding, apparently literally having dropped fully clothed to lie on his stomach with just his jacket flung to the floor.

She was just about to turn back around and leave him be, when he grunted something unintelligible into the pillows and shifted with a wince so that he could crack open one eye and look at her. Something must have given her away then, because very quickly he was almost fully alert and studying her where she stood in the doorway.

"Something is still bothering you." He stated, voice still full of sleep, but clearly a little alarmed.

Ariadne bit her lip and dropped her gaze. "There is…but it can wait." The conversation was being handed to her on a silver platter, but suddenly she was not sure she wanted it anymore.

Eames hissed with the movement as he turned onto his back and stared at her. "I'm not sure it should. It's clearly important to you." He lifted a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

She was still a little doubtful.

"Come here." He shifted over slightly to make room for her and she did not hesitate and lay down next to him, careful to stay away from the side of his chest that had taken the brunt of damage even when he pulled her close with one arm around her.

"Tell me." He said after a while of lying there in silence and him playing with her hair. She opened her eyes which had fallen closed in contentment and propped herself up by her elbow so they could really look at each other.

There was that barely guarded look again. It caught her out and she sighed, fingers idly trailing over his shirt and up to play along the thick scruff on his jaw line. He had earlier noted that he needed a shave.

"I just realised back there that if you'd gone and gotten yourself killed, I wouldn't even know what we should put on your gravestone." She had meant it as a joke, to hide the hurt underneath, but when she actually spoke the words, her voice cracked halfway through and the tears forming in her eyes had surprised even her. She quickly squeezed them shut and felt rather pathetic for hiding her face in his shoulder, but did it anyway.

He automatically tightened his grip around her and she caught another half-contained grunt when he turned onto his side to properly hug her to his front.

"I mean, I get the whole thing about having to be careful with personal things in this business, but I just… well I'm not sure I even know you at all…" Her voice muffled as it was against the fabric of his shirt, drifted off at the end.

There was a long silence and she mentally braced herself for whatever reaction.

It came as a heavy sigh and she could hear a slight wheeze still accompany it from where she rested her head against his chest. "If I said there was not much to tell, you wouldn't believe me, would you?" His voice rumbled quietly against her ear.

"Not really, no." She whispered in return, not even bothering to move and instead nuzzling closer into his embrace, still mindful of healing injuries.

She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. "Clever girl." The comment made her smile despite herself and she drew away enough to meet his gaze.

Eames grinned when he saw her teary smile and wiped at the left over tears smeared over her cheeks. "What do you want to know?"

She wanted to say that she wanted to know everything there was to know, but instead caught herself.

"Anything you're ready to tell me." Ariadne replied instead and as she predicted, his grin faded while his eyes darkened.

Nonetheless, he nodded. "Some of it you might not want to hear." He then added as an afterthought and the way he searched her face told her he was waiting for a reaction.

"Do you trust me?" She decided to ask, rather than give a straight out answer.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly not quite seeing the connection. "Of course I do." He stopped short, as if suddenly remembering something. "You've asked me that before."

The architect smiled a little ruefully. "I figured you to have been too drugged up to remember."

He just gave her an expectant look.

"If you trust me," She reiterated, cupping his bearded cheek, "then you know that I want to hear everything you're prepared to share no matter what."

For a moment he just blinked at her. Then that slow smirk spread over his face that she knew all too well. "Everything?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but went along with it, deciding that if he needed to joke about it to feel more comfortable she would go along with it. "Well, not everything down to every nasty and probably pretty gross little detail." She told him and wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust.

Ariadne knew she was in trouble when he narrowed his eyes at her, the playful sparkle she had missed back in the sharp gray.

"If I wasn't so tired, I would make you pay for that." He informed her and poked her side so that she jumped and squeaked a little in surprise.

"Feeling our age, are we?" It had escaped her mouth before she was able to resist and she giggled even more when she saw his face go slack in astonishment for a split-second.

"Darling," He managed when he had recovered, "you did not just say that."

Ariadne could not help herself, she just carried on laughing in his face but it soon turned into a shriek when he started to tickle her. She half-heartedly fought him, careful not to hit him too hard and was glad that things seemed to have been resolved at least for now.

* * *

><p><em>Done. Did you like? It turned very fluffy like I said... and why do my characters always end up in bed in the end? somebody explain! XD<em>


End file.
